How can we celebrate in this terrored age?
Guns and bombs and treacled happy songs.
It’s all gone wrong.
I don’t understand. I wait and I grieve.
I hope for reprieve, for peace, for a sign
That we’re not alone.
We need more than a manger when our children are in danger
Shepherds and angels are a pretty tale
But our life isn’t going well and we’re supposed to sing Noel
It’s not OK to be this way.
Tossed by believing unreasoned, heart-wrecked on sandy hope
Children hide and the Savior stands aside
In the mourning vigil of delayed advent.
Still hope belies the mind’s despair
And divine love keens in the ruined air.